Amazing Grace
by Old Fiat
Summary: He'd felt lost for a long time, waiting for someone to help him find his way home. Troyella. Multi-chapter.
1. It's Going Down

**Amazing Grace**

Old Fiat

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Summary: He'd felt lost for a long time, waiting for someone to help him find his way home. Troyella.

Note: Woot! I finally have a new story! It took me a while to find the right idea, but I think I've got a good one. I hope everyone enjoys this. It's a different spin on an idea that's been going around here for a while. I thought of it quite sometime ago with OFnFR, but decided to put it in story form two days ago while lying sick in bed and listening to non-stop My Chemical Romance. I know. Odd.

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 1: It's Going Down**

Troy fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as Jennifer gave a happily little moan and opened her eyes.

"That was wonderful..." she said, stretching and smiling at him.

"Yeah," said Troy, pulling a comb out of his pocket and fixing his hair in the full-length mirror hanging on the closet door. "Really great..."

The head cheerleader pushed some of her long blond hair out of her perfectly tan face. "So... Are we going to be a... thing?"

"Uh... Maybe..." Troy tucked the comb into the back pocket of his jeans and headed over to the door, preparing to leave. "See you."

"Bye..." Jennifer grinned at him dazedly as he walked out the door.

Troy tried to go down the steps as quietly as possible. The only angry dad he wanted to deal with that day was his own. Having safely made it down the stairs, he stepped out the the front door and went out to his car. He stuck the key in the lock and drove past the other neat suburban homes, all red from the sun just starting to come up over the horizon.

A glance at the clock on the dashboard showed that he had an hour and a half before his mother left for work and saw his car wasn't in the driveway. Of course, she might not care. It had never happened before but his behavior might have finally made her snap.

He pulled into the garage and let himself into the house. Trudging up the stairs without bothering to try and silence his steps, he went into his room. He should probably take a shower, but he didn't want to. He had one day left before he had to go back to school and he planned to sleep off any guilt for what he'd done before then.

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Gabriella was desperately out of breath by the time she reached her homeroom class. She was so late. She couldn't have detention on her first day, but it looked like it was unavoidable now. The principal, Mat... something, wouldn't stop talking to her for like, ten minutes and then he just pushed her into the hallway, expecting her to know her way around the school.

Quickly smoothing out her khaki skirt and lime green cotton blouse, she turned the handle and entered the classroom. All eyes were suddenly on her. Gabriella brushed a lock of chocolate brown hair out of her face.

The homeroom was obviously used for the drama class normally because the walls were draped with silk and velvet, the bookshelves were stocked with different scripts and screenplays and two masks-- one smiling and one frowning-- were hanging behind the teacher's desk.

Speaking of the teacher...

"Well! Here is a young lady who assumes that since it is the first day of school and it's still August, that we can all act as though we're still on vacation! Well Miss..."

Gabriella stared down at her shiny black slip-on shoes. "Gabriella Montez, ma'am."

"Miss Montez..." The teacher, an imposing gray-haired woman wrapped in what appeared to be some of the silk fabric from the wall, glanced down a clipboard on her desk. "Well, Miss Montez, since you've just moved to Albuquerque and are new to the layout of this establishment, I will give you a pass just this once. Tomorrow I expect you in here on time. Now sit." She pointed at a seat in the back.

"Yes ma'am," she said, walking down the space between the desks. Once she had sat down, Ms. Darbus, which was the teacher's name according to the plaque on her desk, continued her lecture.

"As I was saying-- we must reopen our minds to the joys of learning and the arts which we can practice with our fellow students. Speaking of the arts, auditions for the fall musicale will be Friday after next but I recommend you sign up as early as possible..."

Gabriella tuned her out, reading over her schedule. After the one-hundredth review of the timetable, she glanced at her watch and realized only ten minutes had passed. It was easy to forget over the summer that time always seemed to slow down in school buildings. She set the schedule on her desk and silently tested herself on its contents. She stared at the clock behind Ms. Darbus. So... she still had twenty-four minutes to kill until the end of this period. Gabriella wasn't usually one to not pay attention during class, but she was still feeling to sting of being made an example and couldn't bring herself to listen to her.

Lord! Was Ms. Darbus ever quiet? She was still monologuing despite the fact that ninety-nine percent of the students didn't appear to be listening. Gabriella looked around the class. Her eyes were instantly drawn to a boy sitting in the front row. She wouldn't have been able to see his face if it weren't the fact that he was gazing blankly out the window. His longish sandy brown hair fell over his eyes. As he stared out at the green campus lawns, he gnawed at his round pink lips. He obviously wasn't listening to Ms. Darbus.

Gabriella usually wasn't distracted by boys. She considered them to be just people, like her and yet she could take her eyes off the young man as he drummed her fingers along his desk, creating a deep, smooth rhythm. He breathed slowly, eyes sliding in and out of focus.

She was pulled out of her daydreaming when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned to see a young, African-American girl smile at her.

"So, you're new here?" the girl whispered, a wide smile on her face. Gabriella nodded, looking worriedly towards the front of the class to make sure Ms. Darbus hadn't heard them. "Where are you from?"

"Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, originally," Gabriella stated as softly as she could.

"Neat." The girl grinned, showing dazzlingly white teeth. "My name is Taylor McKessie. I'm the president of the Scholastic Decathlon team. What teams are you thinking of joining?"

"I-I don't know..." Gabriella said, trying to smile but continuing to watch Ms. Darbus.

"Well, what are your hobbies?" asked Taylor. It didn't surprise Gabriella that she was the president of the decathlon team. She had known those kinds of people very well in her old school and briefly been one of their number. Taylor dressed like a politician in a crisp blazer, an neutral a-line skirt and shiny black loafers and held herself with the air of confidence usually possessed by those who know they will almost always be one the most intelligent person in a room full of their peers.

"Um... I belonged to the choir at my old school and... yeah... I was on the Physics, Chemistry and Math club too."

Taylor's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yeah." Gabriella nodded, her dark curls bouncing around her shoulders.

"Well," Taylor said with a little shrug of her shoulders. "You might want to try out for the team."

"Thanks."

Taylor turned back towards the front of the room Gabriella brought her gaze back to the boy who was no longer looking out the window but was turned away-- she guessed he was now pretending to listen to Ms. Darbus, fingers still tapping the edge of his desk.

She was still watching him when the bell rang signaling the end of class. Jumping up from her desk, Gabriella grabbed her backpack and began to file out of the classroom with the rest of the students. Taylor followed her out into the hallway and looked at her schedule in her hand.

"Wow!" she said, walking along side the new student who was suddenly confused.

"What?" asked Gabriella as she pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket with her locker number and combination, shoving the schedule back in her bag and feeling her cheeks burn.

"You're signed up for a bunch of different classes. Hey Sharpay."

A blond, haughty girl joined them. She had a long straight nose to match her long straight hair and sparkling brown eyes.

"Hello Taylor." She smiled at her half-friend, half-sparring partner and set her eyes on Gabriella. "So you're the new student?"

"Uh-huh," said Gabriella, trying to give the girl a smile as wide and bright and hers. "I moved here from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania with my mom."

"Cool," said Sharpay and then back to talk rapidly to Taylor about the summer holidays. Gabriella wasn't sure if Sharpay was a real name, but then again, Sharpay didn't seem like a real girl. Her clothes all looked like the clothes you'd find on a Barbie-- not particularly high-fashion items, but fairly flattering and very trendy. Her make up seemed as though it must've been put on her face by a professional crew. She strutted down the hallway in pitch black high heels without a single wobble of her ankles, as the hoards of students parted like the red sea so she could walk through. She, like Gabriella and Taylor, had chosen to wear a skirt to the first day of school, but hers was a tiny pink pleather mini. Her hair streamed behind her as she walked and her arms swung by her thin torso, covered with a close cut black button up shirt with design embroidered on the sleeves with silver thread.

Behind Sharpay walked a thin, blond boy with pale skin and dark eyebrows, eyelashes and lips whom Gabriella realized was the only student in homeroom who had been listening to Ms. Darbus' continuous preaching. He had slightly sunken eyes which were a warm gray-blue. Perched on top of his short, naturally spiky hair was a red fedora with a black strap. He wore a simple but perfectly white button up shirt made of crisp cotton, black trousers and bright red dance shoes. As the group veered to the right side of the hallway for Gabriella to sort out her locker, she saw the the shirt's cuff were held with little silver cuff links and the black strap of the hat was edged with silver.

He caught Gabriella's eye and gave her a smile-- a small, shy, sweet smile. She grinned back.

"Hey Gabriella," said Taylor, grabbing her attention once more.

"Yeah?" asked Gabriella, turning away from the blond boy.

"Will you be able to find your way to your next class?"

"Uh... Just let me see where the English room..." Gabriella consulted the map printed on the back of the schedule, but Sharpay was impatient.

"Ryan," she said in a loud voice, calling the attention of not only Ryan, but several other students as well. "Stay here with Gabriella and take her to her English class. You're in the same one."

"Alright." The boy watched Sharpay and Taylor leave before staring at Gabriella as she placed some of her books into her locker, something she had not had time to do before. "So, you're from Philadelphia?"

"Yeah," said Gabriella, shuffling through her bag. "I've already said that twice today. Three times, actually."

"I used to live in Rhode Island," said Ryan, still smiling placidly. "The East Coast is nice, isn't it?"

Gabriella nodded as she placed some of her books on the upper shelf of her locker. "Yeah, it is."

"Why'd you move to Albuquerque?" he asked, leaning against a nearby locker.

This was the question Gabriella had been hoping no one would ask. "My... um... my mom got a job here and so we decided to move." She hoped she didn't seem too cold. Ryan seemed nice-- a little spacey, but nice. She smiled, hoping to soften her statement, but still deflect any further questions.

Ryan got the message. Nodding, he asked, "What's your mom's job?"

"She's... um..." She dug through her bag for anything else she could remove from the over-stuffed sac. "She's a nuclear technician."

"Cool!" said Ryan, his eyes lighting up with what seemed to be genuine enthusiasm. "My father is a big CEO or whatever. I dunno..." His voice trailed off and he blinked a few times, eyes down towards his shoes. She watched his expression carefully, worried he himself hand begun talking about an emotional topic, but he didn't appear at all upset. He just stared down at his feet and Gabriella realized he was expecting her to say something.

"That's really neat!" she said, stretching her lips into a smile and closing her locker.

He gave a funny little grin, like he wasn't sure if he should be complimented for what his father did. "Thanks," he said softly. Then continuing in a louder tone, "What clubs are you planning to join? Me and Sharpay are co-presidents of the Drama Club."

"Wow," said Gabriella as they walked through the mob of students. "I don't really know yet..."

"Well you have to join something. It's school rules that you have to be involved in at least one club or extra-curricular activity. I don't think you can get around it unless you have a slip from a parent or doctor or something."

"I'll look into some stuff," she smiled at him. "Thanks for the heads-up. Principal Matsui didn't tell me that earlier which seems amazing because, I mean, he spoke to me for what seemed like an eternity."

Ryan laughed loudly as the two of them arrived outside the English room. He pushed open the door and held it for her.

"Thanks," she said, slipping past him. He winked and made a bee-line for a desk which she assumed was unofficially 'his'. She sat down in a desk at the back and glanced at the clock, suddenly wishing she had eaten breakfast this morning despite her fluttery stomach.

The teacher entered a few moments later and, once most of the desks had been filled, began her lesson.

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Gabriella was relieved when the lunch bell rang. Collecting her bag, she moved as quickly as possible between her other classmates, none of whom were Ryan, Sharpay or Taylor. As she pushed her way out of the crowded door way, she found herself suddenly crashing into the person who had exited directly before her.

"Frickin' klutz..." groaned the male, sitting up from his new position on the floor.

"I'm so sorry!" she said, picking up the one or two items that had fallen out of her bag. She looked at the boy and received a shock when she saw the boy from her homeroom. His face was now a flawless portrayal of annoyance rather than the daydreaming expression she'd seen him wear earlier. She saw he had blue eyes, the brightest she'd ever seen.

He grinned as he saw her stare at him. Mischief played over his face. Rising, he offered her his hand.

"You want help?" he asked, the smirk still in place. She didn't like the look of that smirk. It seemed... naughty, like he was mentally undressing her at that very moment.

"Thank you," she said, taking the offered extremity, and felt a small jolt run up her arm, as though she'd just been mildly electrocuted. "Excuse me." She turned from him and walked in what she hoped was the right direction to go to the cafeteria.

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**Wow! More than two thousand words! I hope you all liked this. I know not much happened in this chapter, but the proper set-up for the plot begins in the next, so just hold on for a bit! XD**

**Anyway, thanks! And please, please review! Or else I seriously won't continue this.**

**Yours,**

**-Old Fiat s. Italy**


	2. One Step Closer

**Amazing Grace**

Old Fiat

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**Chapter 2: One Step Closer**

Taylor looked up as Gabriella slid into the seat beside her.

"Hey, what's up? Where were you? Lunch has been going on for, like, twenty minutes."

"I got lost," Gabriella explained, annoyed with herself. "Where are Sharpay and Ryan?"

"Up there," Taylor gestured towards the balcony that hung over the main floor of the cafeteria, "with their fellow drama club members, the art club kids and... some other people." She laughed. "It's weird, I know. This is where the scholastic decathlon people usually sit and try to finish any homework that's _just_ been assigned." She rolled her eyes. "Well, most of time we do that."

Gabriella laughed and suddenly remembered the boy she'd run into after chemistry class.

"Hey, there's this boy who's in a few of my classes, I think. And, um..."

"Describe him, maybe he's on the decathlon team."

"Well..." Gabriella wasn't quite sure where to begin. "He's about... four to six inches taller than me, dirty blond hair, really, _really_ bright blue eyes, thin... um..."

Right on cue, she glanced towards a table near the stairs leading to the balcony. There was the boy, chatting to a collection of other young men.

"There he is," said Gabriella, pointing him out to Taylor. "The one in the green and yellow plaid shirt."

Taylor turned towards Gabriella, a pitying look on her face.

"Why do you want to know about him?" she asked, looking sadly at the petite brunette. "Do you think he's cute or something?"

"No..." said Gabriella, a little uncomfortably. She didn't really know why she wanted to know, but she did. "I don't know... It's just we've got at least two classes together so... I was just wondering..." She trailed off, hoping Taylor would leave it at that.

Unfortunately, Taylor wasn't that kind of girl.

"Let me give you a piece of advice, Gabriella," she said, taking the girl's hand.

"What is it?" Gabriella asked in a voice that was almost a mumble.

"Stay as far away from that boy as you can. Only fools and skanks get involved with him."

Gabriella looked up at her, feeling, for some reason, a little wounded.

"_What?_"

"That's _Troy Bolton_," Taylor went on, saying his name as though it were one of the many for the devil. "Also known as the most insensitive, undisciplined, repulsive little cheat this school has ever known and will ever know."

"Is Taylor giving you her 'Stay Away From the Evil Troy Bolton' speech?"

A girl sat down on Taylor's other side. She had dark, curly hair and pale porcelain skin. She reminded Gabriella of a friend she used to have in Pennsylvania named Britney. Britney had been a big girl with a big personality and a huge heart. Judging by this girl's smile, she was probably the same.

"Hi I'm Martha," she said, smiling and offering Gabriella her hand.

"I'm Gabriella." They shook hands.

"Seriously Martha," said Taylor, annoyed with the girl for interrupting her mid-lecture. "She has to be warned about him. He's in at least two of her classes."

"So?" asked Martha, starting on her lunch.

"'_So?_'! '_So?_'!" shrieked Taylor, aghast. "_So_ the guy's a creep!"

"Yeah, but he's just a basketball jock," said Martha, laughter toying around the corners of her mouth. "You needn't make him sound like Satan."

"As far as I'm concerned, he is!" said Taylor and turned sharply back to Gabriella. "You know he was dating _five_ different girls last year, _at once_. After he slept with each of them, he broke up with all of them, _at once_, then he went off and scored with Carey Stevens."

"Who's Carey Stevens?" asked Gabriella, a little confused. "How do you know this stuff?"

"That doesn't matter!" said Taylor, slamming her palms down on the table. "Just _keep away from Troy Bolton_."

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"Dude, shut up!" said Zeke, laughing but still appearing very embarrassed.

"Then," said Chad and his grin widened as he recounted the story of the time he stayed over at his fellow jock's house, "he hugs the pillow closer, kisses it and goes, 'oh Sharpay!' and starts making out with it some more. I was like, 'what the hell?' and when I finally got him to wake up and stop talking, right before opening his eyes he gives this little sigh or moan or whatever and I was like, 'dude! Get up! I'm not Sharpay!'"

The table exploded in laughter, Chad's louder than the rest.

"I did not!" protested Zeke, burying his face in his hands.

"Sorry, Zeke," said Jason, patting his friend on the back. "You're a really bad liar."

"Yeah, but you gotta remember that Chad's a really good one," said Troy, laughing at the jokingly indignant look on the other boy's face.

"I'm..." Chad cut himself off mid-objection. "No, no, he's right. I _am_ a really good liar. I'm lying right now." They all laughed again.

"Oh yeah, Troy," said Jason, turning towards the blond. "I saw you and Jennifer leave the back-to-school party, are you two..." He trailed off but made made vague gestures to try and finish his sentence.

"Are we... together?" Troy attempted.

"Yeah," said Jason, nodding.

Troy paused for a moment, only pretending to consider the question. "No," he said plainly, shrugging. Chad gave him a mildly disgusted look, which Troy pretended to ignore. "She was a little..." he searched his mental dictionary for the right word. "...limp," he finally decided upon.

"That's why you broke up with her?" asked Chad, looking at the other boy with mild concern.

"Yeah," Troy answered, cocking one eyebrow. "Why? Don't you trust your fine captain's judgment?"

The other jocks sitting around the table laughed, but it all was a little forced.

Jason and Chad began talking about formations and Zeke instantly jumped in. Troy tuned them out and looked past Chad's big afro to where a few girls were sitting a couple of tables away. He'd seen most of them around the school, he had gone out briefly with one of them and he recognized one of them very sharply. It was the girl who had walked into him earlier that day, the one Ms. Darbus had introduced in . Her dark curly hair swung around her shoulders and part of the way down her back. She seemed extremely quiet. He could see... oh what was her name? It didn't matter.

But he liked the look of the new girl. She had a nice figure— light boned but still curvy— and a pretty face. She bit her lower lip a lot, which he found a bit strange, but other than that she was quite alright looking.

_If she stopped dressing like a politician's daughter,_ he thought while looking her over, _she could be a real knockout._

There was a light tap on his shoulder and as he went to turn, a pair of skinny, yet muscular arms wrapped around him.

"Hey Troy," said a coy, smiling voice after bestowing a brief peck on his ear. He turned the rest of the way and saw a thin coquettish red-head whom he could recall as a member of the cheer squad.

"Hello Kaitlyn!" He threw his arms around her shoulders and guided her into the seat beside him. "I didn't see you at Jake's party!" he remarked, kissing her on the cheek.

"I couldn't go," she explained, pretending not to react to his kiss. "My sister— you remember her, right? Remember, she was a senior when we were all freshmen..." Kaitlyn trailed off. Troy nodded. "Yeah. Well, I had to go to her wedding."

"She got married?" said Chad, who had ducked out of the basketball talk when Kaitlyn had joined them.

"Yeah..." Kaitlyn grinned and shrugged her shoulders slightly. "It's cool."

"Oh, tell her congratulations from me!" said Chad, smiling happily at her.

"I'll tell her that," said Kaitlyn, giving him a grateful grin. "Thanks."

"Like she needed Chad's blessing," teased Troy and kissed her again on the cheek. She blushed and smiled at him.

Chad couldn't help but roll his eyes.

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To Gabriella's horror, she discovered that most of her regular classes— as in, not the advanced subjects her mother had signed her on for— were the same as Troy's. He appeared to only do just enough to scrape by in school, a trait Gabriella had always disliked and disapproved of. Wasn't he worried about college? Weren't his parents nagging him just as much as her mother was now pressuring her about grades? Then she recalled that he was apparently some sort of big sports star at East High. He was probably either planning on nabbing a sports scholarship or just... pumping gas for the rest of life or something.

It was people like him that made Gabriella wish she was good at sports. She would love to be able to coast like that— no worries, other than numerous admirers around the school... Unfortunately though, that had never been the kind of girl she was. She wasn't pretty, at least in her own opinion, and she was totally uncoordinated.

And that was way she was in a poor mood the following Monday, having faced that morning a long talk from her mother "reminding" her to do her best in all her classes that day, two falls from her bicycle on the way to school and frequent distractions in and in between her classes by Troy, who, and maybe it was just her imagination, seemed to stare at her through a lot of the class sessions and lunch breaks. Or maybe it was just because it was Monday, which always put her in a bad mood.

She placed her books into her bag as the other students rushed out around her. It was her last class of the day, as far as she knew, but she needed to speak to Principal Matsui about her extra-curricula activities before she left. She walked against the tide of students all walking to their respective clubs and sports meets.

She was led into his office by his forbidding looking secretary named Mrs. Kingston. He smiled as she entered nervously.

"Ms. Montez, right?" he said, his mouth stretching into a wide grin. "What can I help you with? Sit down."

"Well, I needed to talk about my extra-curricular activities," she said, anxiously seating herself in the seat across his desk. "I was told by one of the students that you have to be involved in at least one club or team, is that true? Because—"

He cut her off, unaware that she had not finished. "That is school policy, yes." He nodded, still beaming. "Do you want any help picking out some clubs?"

"Uh..." Gabriella got the feeling that all conversations with Principal Matsui could last hours if he had enough time for them to continue that long.

"Let me just find... I have a list of all the activities you can partake in, just let me..." He stared at his computer, trying to find the file. "Here we go." He turned the desktop so she could she the document. "With your grades I'm sure all the academic clubs would be happy to except you!"

"Actually I was thinking of joining the scholastic deca—"

And suddenly they heard a scream and a crash from the outer hallway.

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"Wouldn't it be cool if this semester we did, like, _Grease_ or _RENT_?"

Sharpay rolled her eyes and continued applying her lipstick with the aid of a mirror placed at the back of her locker.

"Please Ryan," she said, rubbing her lips together and reaching for the little tube of gloss. "How many parents do you think would come if we did _RENT_? _Grease_, maybe, but I don't know about _RENT_."

"But Shar—"

"Well, if it isn't my old princess!"

Sharpay turned, her long blond whipping the door of her locker. "Oh God, it's you."

Troy smirked and took another step towards her. "You sound less than thrilled. Why is that?"

"I dunno," Sharpay retorted, taking a step back. "Maybe it's because you tried to score with me on our first date last summer, slimy bastard."

"'Slimy'?" he questioned, then put his hands on the lockers on either side of her, creating a sort of cage around Sharpay and blocking Ryan. "Come on, that was a misunderstanding."

"Get off!" said Sharpay, pushing away one of his arms and starting to move to the other side of him. He quickly recovered, however and pulled her back towards him.

"Hey, you know me, Sharpay," he said, winking at her, "I don't give up that easily."

"Get away from me!" She pushed against his arms but they wouldn't budge.

"My sister said for you to get away!" Ryan grabbed Troy's shoulder and forced the jock to face him. He was surprisingly strong for someone who looked so light and wiry.

"Who's gonna make me, you?" asked Troy, shrugging off his hand and turning once more towards Sharpay.

"Leave her alone!" Ryan gripped his arm, but Troy twisted suddenly, grabbed his wrist and punched the other boy square between the eyes.

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Gabriella and Principal Matsui rushed out into the hallway. A large group of students had gathered— all cheering, shouting and pushing to get a good view of whatever was going on. There was another scream and a slam like someone had kicked close a locker.

She shouldered her way through the crowd and arrived at the front just in time to see Ryan slide down bright pink locker and onto the floor, leaving a thin trail of blood behind him. With a shout that sounded almost like a roar, another boy leaped on top of him, swing his fist directly into Ryan's stomach. It took Gabriella a second to realize that it was Troy Bolton. His bright blue eyes were wide and crazed. His jaw was clenched tightly. Every muscle was tensed. He looked like a wild animal in the hunt. Sharpay was screaming loudly, tears streaming down of her face, moving like invisible hands were holding her back.

Troy pulled Ryan up by the hair into a sitting position and slammed his head against hard floor. Ryan's mouth open and what came out could only be described as a shriek. He howled, his body curling in pain, but Troy would not relent.

"_Enough_!"

And, in a sudden explosion of alarms, it began to rain.

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**So! That's chapter two! What will happen next? Who knows? I'm not even sure I do. Ha ha.**

**Anyways, please read and review. I know this chapter wasn't that great, but I needed to fill in some background info about certain characters. **

**Bye!**

**-OFsI**


	3. Over My Shoulder

**Amazing Grace**

Old Fiat

IMPORTANT! I just wanted to let you guys know that I will not update this story until I get at least five reviews. There are more than enough people subscribed to it! Come on!

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**Chapter 3: Over My Shoulder**

Troy, Sharpay and Ryan sat outside Principal Matsui's office where the principal was speaking fervently to his secretary in less than hushed tones. He had told them to wait there until he felt calmer.

A heavy silence hung between the three of them, making it possible to hear the sounds of Principal Matsui and the secretary speaking, but not enough to make out what the pair were saying.

Sharpay kept glancing worriedly at her brother. Ryan could be annoying, slow and sometimes almost as obnoxious as her, but he was always her brother. She was only five minutes older than he was, but she still felt oddly protective of him. However, she did her best to cover up her concern. Ryan hated being worried about and fussed over by anyone but himself and their mother. She pushed some of her damp, curly hair out of her face. When Principal Matsui had set off the fire alarm in an attempt to break up the fight, the water had undone the hour-long straightening she had done that morning on her hair. Of course it didn't matter now.

She looked again at her brother. The nurse had cleaned up the back of his head, but Sharpay could still see bits of blood drying in Ryan's short blond hair. He held an ice pack to the right side of his face and was staring blankly at the floor.

Troy was on her other side, but she was really trying not to look at him. His hair was spiky and wet and he gazed up at the ceiling. He drummed his fingers on his thigh and ran his tongue over his teeth, looking angry and somewhat bored.

Mrs. Kingston poked her head out of Principal Matsui's office.

"You can come in now," she said, gesturing for them to enter. Troy got up first, trudging past the middle-aged woman. Sharpay got up and paused, waiting for Ryan who rose shakily and half limped towards the office.

Only once all three of them were seated in front of the principal did he begin to speak.

"I've called each of your parents. Ryan, Sharpay, your mother will be here in about fifteen minutes. Troy, your father will come in in about five minutes."

They nodded.

"Troy, your punishment for fighting on school grounds—"

Troy leaped out of his seat, mockingly indignant.

"_My_ punishment?" he said loudly and pointed an accusing finger at Ryan. "What about _Evans'_ punishment? He started it! I was just trying to defend myself!"

Principal Matsui rolled his eyes. "_Please_, Troy. You have a long history of delinquency and violence around East High."

"So you're going to make a judgment based on my history and not even _try_ to find out what really happened?"

"Well, I'm going on the fact that you started ten different fights last year and Ryan didn't start any."

Troy snorted. "Maybe he doesn't have the balls for it."

Ryan jumped up, flinching. "Hey, Bolton—!"

"Sit down, both of you!" said Principal Matsui and the two boys sat back down, Ryan still glaring daggers at Troy. "What was the reason for this fight?" He looked at Sharpay.

"Troy was harassing me, trying to score or whatever, and Ryan told him to go away and Troy hit him," she explained as calmly as she could given the hatred burning inside her for the brunette on her left.

"That's it?" asked the principal. Ryan and Sharpay nodded. Troy leaned back in his chair and looked at the flickering florescent lights. "Alright... Troy, you have four weeks—" Troy looked back at the usually chipper man and made a small noise of protest. "—of detention cleaning some of the science labs and club rooms."

Troy's bright blue eyes flashed with anger but he just looked back up at the ceiling.

"You may want to talk to my dad about that one. I have basketball practice."

"I already have," said Matsui, trying to keep his voice even. "Ryan, fighting on campus is against school rules. You have one week of detention with Ms. Darbus."

Bringing his head forward again, Troy stared at Principal Matsui.

"You can't be serious!" he said, laughing in disbelief. "He spends every week with that woman anyway!"

Principal Matsui ignored his last statement and said to Troy, "I also expect you to apologize to Ryan and his parents."

He snorted. "Like that'll happen."

The door to the office opened and a man who was probably in his mid-thirties, with short brown hair, a strong jaw and light blue eyes came in. He was wearing a simple white button-shirt tucked into crisply ironed khakis.

"Principal Matsui, I'm sorry it took me a while I just had to finish something in my office."

"It's fine, Jack, take a seat."

Coach Bolton sat down in the remaining seat by his son. Before Principal Matsui could resume talking, Troy leaned forward and turned to his father.

"Dad, did you agree to let me miss four weeks worth of basketball practice to clean science rooms as a punishment?"

Coach Bolton didn't even look at his son.

"Yes, I did. We'll talk about this later."

Troy flung himself back into his seat and fumed. His jaw clenched and the anger he felt at his father could be seen burning behind his eyes.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Evans arrived in a flawless pink Chanel suit, her blond hair in a perfect flip and her black kitten heels clicking on the plastic tiled floor. Catching sight of her wounded son, she gave a little shriek and rushed over to Ryan.

"Ducky! Are you alright? Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?"

Troy snorted at the nickname while Ryan squirmed, embarrassed.

"Mom..."

Mrs. Evans wrapped her arms around Ryan and turned to Principal Matsui.

"What has happened to my son?" Tears glistened in her eyes and she bit her lower lip in an attempt to stop them spilling over.

"He was in a fight," explained Principal Matsui. After explaining the separate punishments to her, she nodded and helped Ryan out of his chair, never breaking her embrace.

"Well, _Troy_ here—" she said 'Troy' as though she didn't believe it was a real name. "—can apologize later. I want to get Sharpay and Ryan home, if that's alright, Mr. Matsui."

"That's fine," said the bespectacled Asian. "Jack, Troy—you can go as well."

Jack rose and went straight over to Mrs. Evans who was already in the hallway while Troy stomped angrily behind him.

"I am so sorry, Mrs. Evans," he said, taking one of her hands. "If there's anything I can do, if you want me to pay for medical treatment for anything my son did—"

Mrs. Evans smiled at him and squeezed his strong, callused hand.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Bolton," she said, keeping one arm around Ryan.

"You can call me Jack."

"Thank you... Jack, but it's fine. You're not to blame for your sons actions and I'm certainly not going to make him pay." She paused briefly. "... for the medical bills."

Coach Bolton laughed a little nervously and the two groups parted.

Once he and his father were in the parking lot, Troy immediately went to make a bee-line towards his truck, but Jack grabbed his elbow.

"You're coming with me," he growled and pulled his son towards his own old station wagon.

Troy dropped into the passenger's seat and angrily yanked the seat belt over him. Jack slid behind the steering wheel and did up his own seat belt, ignoring his son's glaring. Neither of them spoke until they'd pulled out of the school parking lot.

"Troy," his father began, clearly unsure of what to say. The boy turned slowly towards him, keeping his face as impassive as possible.

"Yeah?"

He tried to start again. "Troy..."

"Yes? What?"

There was a brief pause.

"Why are you acting this way, Troy?" Jack finally said, looking into his son's eyes. Troy didn't say anything and kept his gaze firmly on his father's face. When he didn't respond, Jack asked again, "Well, why?"

Troy stayed silent. Jack swore and turned back towards the road.

"I'm sick of this, Troy!" he said angrily, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel.

Silence.

"Damn it! Answer me!" he shouted, looking at his son's stony face.

"What do you want me to say?" asked Troy, raising one eyebrow ever so slightly.

Jack sighed, the fury he had been so full of a few seconds ago seeming to just flow out of him once more.

"I just want to know where my son is. The son I raised together with my wife. The son I taught to play basketball. The son that... that used to... to sing in the shower and slide down the banister instead of ever using the stairs. Where is that son, Troy? I want to know what happened to him."

Troy rolled his eyes and turned away.

"Maybe he realized that life wasn't half as great as it had first seemed."

Jack stared at the boy who now gazed at the road before them. His face was so cold, his eyes so blank, his mouth held in a stiff line. All of him was still damp from the sprinklers, but Jack was actually glad of this because it meant his hair wasn't falling into his eyes as it usually did when he tried to speak with Troy. He moved his mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say.

"And how did he realize that?" he asked, glancing quickly back and forth from the road to the boy beside him.

Troy stayed silent and Jack mentally cursed himself.

"Troy," he said, sighing. "I need to understand why you've been acting like this. The... the nasty way you've been treating girls, the mood swings... I mean, I remember being a teenager and I wasn't this... creepy."

"Times change."

"Yeah, but not _that_ much!" Jack said, a tinge of laughter in his voice which had nothing to do with him actually laughing. He was annoyed and frustrated, sick of dealing with his son and his bad behavior. "I mean, Chad isn't sleeping around! Same with Jason, Zeke... None of the other guys are starting fights every month. None of the other guys are... are being this... well, this damn stupid!"

"If you're trying to get me to talk," Troy snapped back, his anger finally reaching his voice, "it's probably not the right decision to call me stupid."

Jack scoffed. "I can't help the way you are."

"Oh real mature, dad!"

"Hey." His dad raised one hand up in joke surrender and chuckled. "At least I still have my sense of humor."

Troy shook his head, annoyed and turned his back on his father.

"Troy..." Jack started, trying to stop laughing. He put his hand on his son's back and was surprised to feel the muscles beneath his fingers stiffen as Troy flinched and turned back around. Every trace of anger had left his eyes to be replaced with pure fear.

Jack brought his hand back slowly and said nothing else until they pulled into the driveway, spending the time mulling over what his son had done while Troy sat beside him, breathing heavily and trying to collect himself.

When they reached the small, neat suburban home, both of them got out of the car and, each knowing it would be a few hours before Mrs. Bolton returned home from work, Troy disappeared into his room and Jack went into his office.

He lowered himself into the chair behind his desk and picked up one of the small framed photos that sat before him. It was him, Lucille and Troy at Troy's bar mitzvah. He was smiling proudly down at his son while his wife stood on his other side, her arms wrapped around the boy's shoulders. Troy had a broad smile on his face, looking a little uncomfortable in his small black suit. His bright blue eyes shone with—oddly enough—innocence. Jack remembered the looked in Troy's eyes when he'd touched his back in the car—horror, shock, fear...

What had happened to him?

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The decathlon team had been very happy to accept Gabriella into their ranks, especially after Taylor had "hazed" her by giving her an IQ test and she had scored extremely high. By the end of the first meeting, it was as though Gabriella hadn't ever _not_ been part of the club as they all sat around, drilling each other with science and math-based questions, preparing for the competition that wouldn't begin for another months. Gabriella actually really enjoyed it. As the rest of the the members left, she told Taylor that she was going to use the computer in the club room for some homework assignments because the computer in her own home was not yet connected to the Internet. Taylor agreed and asked Gabriella to make sure she turned off the lights and left before six, when they locked the doors to the school.

As Taylor left, Gabriella set to work, doing research for her newest English paper, scrolling through the thousands of links on Google and trying to find a good, trustworthy site. Once she finally found one, she took out a spare piece of paper.

The door to the club room opened and Gabriella spun around in the computer chair.

And there stood Troy Bolton, managing to look incredibly sexy in a gray boiler suit and white t-shirt.

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**I stand by my earlier demand for at least five reviews! They can say anything (unless it's a flame)– predictions, critiques, random jokes or even just an 'update soon'! I am _begging_ you people, please!**

**Toodles!**

**-OFsI**

**(Ps, Sorry this is kind of slowly paced, it will get faster (if you review), I promise!)**


	4. Between You and Me

**Amazing Grace**

Old Fiat

Thank you all for your reviews! I love all of them. :D

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**Chapter 4: Between You and Me**

Gabriella sighed and, trying to push away the thoughts screaming at her about the attractiveness of the boy in front of her, attempted to look disdainful.

"Oh," she said and her voice shook a little. "Hey."

He just looked at her for a few minutes, expression blank and eyes cold. Finally, he blinked and smirked.

"You're that klutzy new girl, right?"

Gabriella felt the blood rush to her cheeks but was determined not to break eye contact. "Yeah, I-I guess."

Troy laughed, his smirk becoming a grin. "You know, you're not supposed to actually tell the truth with that kind of question." She felt her face grow hotter and thanked God her cheeks were too dark to show when she was blushing. It was then that Gabriella saw he had been pulling behind him a janitor's cart.

"Why do you have that?" she asked, gesturing at the cart and trying to change the subject.

"I have to clean some of the halls and club rooms," he said, smirk back in place but his eyes becoming a little cold again, "as a punishment for beating up some moron."

Gabriella felt anger flare inside her. She hadn't felt a hatred this strong for a long time, but it burned in her chest, pushing against her skin, begging to be released.

"That 'moron' was a friend of mine," she said, voice hard.

He snorted. "Sorry," he said, sarcastically. "He was just being an idiot."

"Just leave," she said and turned back to the computer. He, of course, ignored her and continued into the room, emptying the trash from the waste baskets into the bag attached to the cart. She sighed and tried to go back to studying, but for some reason it was a lot more difficult knowing Troy was in the room. She hunched over her notepaper as he began cleaning under the desks around the room with the brush and dustpan in silence.

A good fifteen minutes passed with the two remaining resolutely silent. Until finally, Troy spoke.

"So what are you studying?"

"None of your business," Gabriella snapped back, keeping her eyes on the screen. "And who says I'm studying?"

"Well, I don't know anyone who goes to..." He glanced over her shoulder. "..._Scholastic Study Guide dot Com_ for fun."

She gritted her teeth together and didn't respond, fuming silently.

"Look," he said, standing to her right and leaning against the white plaster wall, and, amazingly, she found herself suddenly looking into his bright blue eyes, hypnotized and frozen in their cool depths. "I apologize about your friend Evans, okay. I... I shouldn't have done that. I'm going to their house this weekend to apologize... personally. I also shouldn't have spoken to you just now. I'm sorry."

It was a lie, of course. Troy had always been a brilliant liar, but she didn't need to know the truth—that he felt no guilt for what he had done and any apology the Evanses received that weekend would be a false expression of repentance. Hopefully he would be able to fool them as well as he appeared to be fooling the girl beside him.

Gabriella struggled to find the words to speak. Her mouth opened and closed, but she was still trapped under his gaze. His eyes was impossible to look away from. They were cold, but warm; steady, yet quickly shifted with his emotions. The color of the iris could've been described as clear, but it was impossible to call them that. They were cloudy, opaque as though a wall had been built up behind the pupil to keep out intruders. It was unnerving, yet impossible to look away from.

She blinked, shivering slightly. "What? Yeah, yeah... uh..." Her vocal chords had been freed but now she wasn't quite sure what to say. " You, um... You should go apologize to Ryan. That was... that was really out of line." She looked at him again. His face was serious, his mouth slightly tensed at the corners. Suddenly, he grinned. She moaned inwardly at the sight.

"Well, I appreciate your advice..." He looked at her, smile growing broader as he struggled to remember her name.

"Gabriella," she finished for him. "My name is Gabriella Montez."

"Mine's Troy Bolton," he said, trying to suppress his laughter.

"I know," she said, looking back and the computer.

"Oh, you know!" he teased, raising one eyebrow. "So, have you been asking people about me?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Tell me, Troy—have they ever measured your ego? I bet its volume is quite close to that of the sun."

"What about the volume of that chip on your shoulder? I bet it's close to the size of my ego!"

"Oh my God..." she groaned. "How about you just go back to cleaning. That was a terrible comeback."

Troy laughed and, amazingly, turned away to continue sweeping the floors. Gabriella resumed studying, still fuming but not saying anything. Another fifteen minutes passed and she finally relaxed, almost forgetting the boy in the room with her.

"How's it going, Gabriella Montez?"

She jumped, frightened.

"Oh my God!" she half-shouted, looking furious. "Don't _do_ that!" But he was already laughing too hard. When he finally recovered, he looked over her shoulder at the screen.

"Oh... exciting..." he said, nodding and looking at the web page. "Tell me, why are you using the school computer instead of one at home? Or do your parents not have one?"

She sighed and set down her pencil, pushing her thick dark hair out of her face. "The wireless still hasn't been installed in my house yet and it'll take a few more weeks for them to fix it. Why won't you leave me alone?"

He ignored her question, but moved back slightly and looked her up and down a few times.

"You know, you'd look a lot hotter if you wore real people clothes."

She spun around on the chair, shocked. "What do you mean 'real people clothes'?"

"Well..." He approached her again and ran his thumb along the collar of her crisp, pale yellow polo and looked down at her white button-up sweater and brown corduroy's. "No offense or anything—"

"Which means I will be a offended," she interrupted, scowling.

"— you dress kind of like... a middle-aged secretary or a CEO."

"_What?_"

"You do! You and... What's-Her-Face always look like politicians or... business executives, not... people."

"Politicians and business executives are people."

"Yeah," Troy shrugged and chuckled, "But they're not... I mean, no one naturally _chooses_ to dress like them. They only to because an advisor told them too or they bought fifty suits before they went to their first job interview."

"How would you rather have me dress?" Gabriella asked sarcastically.

"Like... Some one your own age, maybe?"

"So," Gabriella spun around in the chair and stood up, jaw clenched, her face tilted up, her nose just a few inches from his own. "You want me to start dressing like everyone else at school? No effort put into looking professional, just into looking hot or whatever? I'm not like that, Troy Bolton. I'm not aiming to be your next bimbo. I aim to be a professional person. I think a lot about what I'll be doing in the future and none of them include—"

"What is with you?" he asked incredulous. "Look, chill. I'm just trying to make conversa—"

"Aren't there other rooms you have to clean?" she interrupted. She hated how weak she had become earlier and was now trying to keep her head level and her face steely. She didn't normally act this rude, but she couldn't help it with him. She hated him. She hated the way he was so appealing, but such a... such a... idiot. She hated the way he... he...

His eyes became cold yet he continued to smile.

"No," he said evenly, keeping her eyes locked in his gaze. "I made sure to leave this one for last. To... save the best for last."

"What a compliment," she said coolly.

The two of them stood there for a few minutes, just staring at each other, daring the other to look away first. Gabriella's smooth, tanned hands were balled into fists, a vein throbbing near her wrist. Troy's arms hung loose at his sides, his face impossible to read. She looked up into his face and saw an impassive visage, impenetrable eyes and a fallen smile. Her teeth were still ground together, her lips slightly pursed. He breathed deeply, trying to stifle the feeling inside him.

"You're the kind of man I hate the most," she said finally. There was no emotion in her voice, only fury blazing behind her eyes. "You don't care about anyone and you punish everyone else for your own faults. I spent sixteen years of my life with a man like you, keeping my mouth shut and never saying what I thought, but I'm not wasting any time with you. You're a bastard, Troy. You're just trying to score with me and you know what? I'm not falling for it. Don't speak to me again until you can act like a human being."

She then, as she had the day before, gathered up all her things, shut down the computer and left without saying another word to the boy who still stood, frozen from her speech.

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Troy jammed the key in the ignition of his truck and pulled quickly out of the school.

What was wrong with him?

He careened down the streets at least ten miles above the speed limit. His heart pounded against his ribs and he was still trying to catch his breath.

There had only been two girls at school who actually hated him so totally and completely— Sharpay and... that one... what ever her name was. Sharpay had had a reason and that other girl was a friend of hers so she probably hated him because Sharpay had told her what had happened.

But Gabriella had no reason! His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles growing whiter each second. That friend of Sharpay had hung around her a bit, but that she wouldn't have told. Sharpay wouldn't have let her told. She'd been too embarrassed by what had happened.

Troy clenched his teeth harder and harder, speeding down the road, signs going by in a blur. He couldn't even see the other cars.

Gabriella...

She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, it couldn't even be hidden by her nasty prep-school uniform-inspired clothes, but he had seen plenty of beautiful girls before, but he had never encountered this feeling. That tightness in his chest when he had stared into her big brown eyes.

His tires screeched as he pulled into the driveway of his house, his chest rising and falling as he fought to reel back in his temper. He rested his forehead against the wheel, never closing his eyes.

_It couldn't be..._

_It was impossible..._

_It wasn't real..._

He stared down at his knees, mulling over the torrent of the thoughts swirling around inside his head. He needed to calm down. What was he supposed to do?

Well, he knew one thing— he _had _to speak to her again the next day, no matter what.

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**I know this chapter is shorter than usual, but... I felt uncomfortable making it longer. **

**My at-least-five-reviews threat still stands. Please, just tell me what you think. I'm sorry this took a while. My headmistress had me helping with the script for next term's school play, but I finally got the time.**

**Thanks!**

**-OFsI**


	5. I Predict a Riot

**Amazing Grace**

Old Fiat

Thank you all so much for all the reviews! I love knowing what people think of my stories and I really appreciate each and every one of you. My at least five reviews threat is still going on, however. Let's see if you guys can keep it up.

Thanks again! Now, to the story...

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**Chapter 5: I Predict a Riot**

When Troy walked into school the next morning, he had regained the mischievous glint in his eye and his usually smirk. Gabriella wondered, when she first saw him in homeroom that morning, if anything she had said to him had sunk in. He seemed even more full of confidence than he had the evening before. As she walked down the hall with Taylor—and only Taylor because Ryan and Sharpay would only return to the school the following week at the request of their parents—she watched him flirt with the girls who all seemed to be infatuated with him. Couldn't they see what he really was?

She didn't notice it until that lunchtime when she glanced over at the basketball jock table where Troy sat with his friends and a few of the cheerleaders. They were all goofing around—a total opposite from where she sat with the other Scholastic Decathlon team members, where all conversation was held in the most civilized tone possible—and laughing, some of the boys teasing the cheerleaders.

Everyone at the table except Troy, who sat in silence, set off slightly from the rest of them, staring at her. As she caught his eye, he turned away and began talking so animatedly with one of the girls that she could almost believe that she had imagined it. However when she looked over later, he was watching her once more. In class later, he stared out of the window, lost in deep thought, which she found annoying since the two of them should have been paying attention to the teacher.

When Gabriella watched Taylor leave the club room, she wondered briefly why she hadn't told the other girl what had occurred between her and Troy the previous day. Taylor would have probably praised Gabriella for delivering such a speech, but Gabriella wasn't quite sure why she had made it. It was true she hated Troy, but she had only just met him. She was only working from what Taylor had told her and her own limited experiences with Troy.

But he just made her so infuriated every time he spoke to her, that lusty smile on his face as he looked her up and down. She could barely contain her anger at the mere thought of it as she opened up a web page on the club computer, drumming her fingers along the desk top as she waited for it to load.

She studied inattentively, finding it difficult to focus on any particular topic. Tired and tense, she could anticipate the on-coming fight between her and Troy, already feeling the fury build up inside her. She was restless and distracted and, after she realized that she had read one paragraph at least fifty times and still had no idea what it said, dropped her head into her hands, sighing.

"Aw... Did you miss me?"

Gabriella spun around in the chair and jumped up, ready to face the intruder, who turned out to be none other than Troy Bolton.

"Oh," she said, flustered. She had wished to seem cool, collected and self-dependent when he entered instead of freaked out and unprepared like she was now. "Hey... Troy..."

"Are you always so frightened by everyone?" he asked, grinning at her, "or is it just me?"

"Do you creep up like that on all or friends?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest and letting one hip jut out slightly in an attempt to look defiant.

He laughed and tossed his head to move his hair out of his eyes. "Now you're not just a business executive," he joked, gesturing at her prim blue and white striped button-up shirt and perfectly ironed black trousers, "but that question-answered-by-another-question thing really reminds of my mom." His grin widened as Gabriella let out an annoyed sigh, but quickly fell into a more serious expression.

"Tell me, do you hate me that much?"

She stared at him, fighting the urge to bite her lip. His gaze was somehow more intense than it had been yesterday, but she was determined to hold her own against it.

"Yes," she answered, simply but firmly.

"May I ask on what basis?"

"Well, for one, you beat up my friend, Ryan Evans, so that kind of already puts you on my bad list," she said, beginning to count of the reasons on her fingers. "You're cocky, arrogant and condescending; you're rude to me whenever you start talking to me and then the next minute you're just full of kindness and charm; you critique my clothes _all the time_; whenever you look at any girl, you look like you're either mentally undressing her or thinking about how and when you could score with her; and you're a snobby, misogynistic, egotistical player who does nothing other than sleep with any girl he sees and coast through school and life generally." She moved closer to him as she said this until they were about two feet apart.

He took a step towards her, leaving the janitor's cart by the door. "And where did you get all those me being a man-whore ideas about me from?"

"People talk," she said after a nanosecond's hesitation. "Though not with the terms you just used."

_Except Taylor,_ she added silently, recalling a conversation with the strong-willed female from a the week before during which Taylor had used terms far worse than the one Troy had just said.

He took another step towards her and she took a step back, stumbling slightly.

"Hm!" It was only then that she noticed the flash of anger in her eyes. Now she more than worried, she was frightened. Troy was around eight inches taller than her and was a lot more muscular. He worked his mouth as though trying to find the right words. He advanced again and leaned down so his face was even closer to hers. "Have you ever considered actually getting to know me?"

"Maybe," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She up at him—half daring him to coming closer and half begging him to back away. "U-until you started fighting with Ryan in the hallway."

The anger suddenly slid out of his eyes to be replaced with his usual naughty shine. He smiled at her, realizing properly for the first time how much she was than him. He took one step back to allow her to calm down a little more. She still watched him closely, waiting fearfully for whatever might occur next.

"Well," he said, beaming suddenly. She looked surprised. "I think that we should get to know each other."

She was annoyed again. "Why?"

"Because I think you should make a judgment not based on what people say, but on your own research. Now, sit down, Miss Montez," he said, sitting on top of one of the desks as she sat down at the computer chair, eyes filled with distrust. "Okay, we'll each take turns asking each other questions. I go first—"Gabriella cut him off.

"Do we have to do this? I have studying to do."

He laughed. "Come on, Gabriella, what's the harm? If find that you do totally loathe me then you'll have a good solid foundation for it and if not... well, anything can happen." He winked. She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"I doubt that 'if not' option, Troy," she said, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "I wouldn't go out with you if you were the last man on earth."

"Harsh," Troy said, rubbing his shoulder jokingly as though she had hit him. "Okay... Um... What's your favorite film?"

"Are we really going to start off like this? I would've thought—"

"Hey!" Troy exclaimed, holding up a hand to stop her. "It's not your turn yet!"

"Ugh!" She ran her fingers through her thick dark hair. "My favorite film is... I love all the _Indiana Jones_ films, but my favorite of the four is _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_."

"Oh!" He raised one eyebrow. "An adventure girl! Alright then, your turn."

She took a deep breath. "Why do you keep bothering me and staring at me and talking to me?"

She had turned away before, but after the question had left her lips she brought her gaze back on him. He was watching her again, as though studying

He smirked. "That's actually three questions, but the answer to all of them is the same—I find you attractive and you seem... interesting." She seemed slightly unperturbed by this and found herself staring at the blackboard at the front of the front so she wouldn't have to look at him and his lusty smile.

"My turn," he said after a moment. He kept getting distracted by the curve of her neck. It seemed so graceful with her dark curls falling around her shoulders. He mentally slapped himself before continuing. "What's your favorite song?"

"'Halo' by Beyonce," she answered, without even pausing to think.

He grimaced. "_You_ like Beyonce?"

"What? Can I not like Beyonce or something I bet your favorite song is... like... some piece of crap by Snoop Dog or... or some other trashy rap song."

"Well, actually, I don't have a favorite song, but my favorite album is 'Infinity on High' by Fall Out Boy. I just kind of figured you'd pick some classical music piece or something." He shrugged, still smiling. "But I guess you have a bit more depth than that."

"I guess so." Gabriella said, catching his eye. "Why do you use women all the time?"

"Oh! Very personal, now!"

"Just answer my question."

"I choose to answer that question with a question—who says I use women?"

"That's against the rules!"

"Well," said Troy, crossing his arms, anger flashing in his eyes again. "I'm changing the rules now."

"Well, then I'll change the rules too!"

"No, you can't. 'Cause you don't know all the rules. It's my turn now, and I'm going to get personal too—why did you move to Albuquerque?"

"How is that personal?" asked Gabriella, raising one eyebrow.

"Just answer truthfully."

"B-because my mom got a job offer here," she answered, not meeting his eyes.

"You're lying!" said Troy in a sing-song voice.

"Why do you need to know?" she demanded, growing frustrated.

"Come on!" He was enjoying teasing her so much that he didn't notice how upset she looked. She didn't want to remember anything in Pennsylvania, that was why she no longer to spoke to any of her old friends. They had never understood. They would never understand. No one would. She didn't want those memories, but they tugged at her while he spoke. He was so much like him—cocky, rude, violent and quickly angered. "Just tell the truth! Why'd you move?"

She was breathing heavily, tears filling her eyes, but he still didn't notice. She wasn't looking at him, her curtain of shining dark hair hanging over her face.

"I'm not taking this," she said, gathering her books in her arms and crossing the room in three long strides before Troy could react. He didn't follow her and not even the sound of the door falling closed could move him. Only one thought bounced through his slightly stunned and confused mind—a thought that had never entered his head with such force and clarity.

_He had to have her._

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**Okay, so that's chapter five. Sorry that not all that much happened. I need to set up somethings and that are supposed to occur in the next and later chapters. I hope you all still enjoyed this.**

**Please read and review! My threat still stands—**_**at least five**_** reviews on this story or there will be **_**no more updates**_**.**

**Thank you guys again for the brilliant outpouring of support on the last chapter. That was so awesome and you guys are the best!**

**-OFsI**


	6. Agitated

**Amazing Grace**

Old Fiat

The threat is on-going! At least five reviews or _no more updates_!

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**Chapter 6: Agitated**

When Gabriella went to bed that night, she vowed that all of the next day, she would speak, look at or think about Troy, and while she knew this was an impossible promise to keep, it brought her some comfort when she curled up under her duvet and tried to think only about the music drifting softly from her boom box.

But, of course, she was right about the promise being impossible because the next day at lunch time, as she walked over to Taylor and Martha, an arm came suddenly from behind and rested itself over her shoulders.

She jumped slightly and turned to see Troy next to her. He smiled down at her and winked.

"Come on, Miss Montez, I need to speak to you before we go to class."

And with that he steered her through the crowd of milling students—Gabriella briefly caught Taylor's eye, who sat at a table with a few of her friends and stared at the two of them, gaping, aghast—and into the hallway where one or two pupils were still milling around, chatting at their lockers. He led her up several flights of stairs until he pushed open a set of the doors and led her up onto the roof of the school. The botany class had built a sort of gazebo on the large concrete space and filled it with different plants—from simple carnations to birds of paradise. There were other miniature gardens on the roof too, tended by the gardening club, which contained rose bushes and other flowers.

Gabriella was surprised. She had never gone on to the school roof before. She had assumed that it was just a large plain of concrete, interrupted by the occasional ventilation fan or air duct, but this was like a private park, fitted with its own simple concrete benches and smallish trees to provide shade.

"This is lovely!" she said, reaching out a hand to stroke the waxy leaf of one of the plants and, momentarily, forgetting who she was with.

"Yeah, this girl I went out with for a while, Miranda Hayes, used to like to hang out up here," he said, looking around the small garden.

Gabriella stiffened at the mention of one of his former girlfriends. Pushing his arm off, she stepped in front of him, arms crossed and looking annoyed.

"Why d'you bring me up here?" she asked, suspiciously, watching him through her thick dark eyelashes.

"I wanted to apologize for—"

"Is this apology the same kind you're going to give Ryan and Sharpay this weekend? A pack of lies with a guilty smile attached?"

He looked genuinely shocked. She smirked.

"Yeah, I fell for that for about a second," she said, starting around him.

"Wait!" he said, taking hold of her arm and turning her to face him. She glared at him, her dark eyes cold. "I really am sorry about upsetting you. I wanted to apologize. I really... really..." He trailed off. He really what? How was he supposed to end that sentence when he wasn't even sure why he began it? His mouthed moved, but no sound came out. Gabriella rolled her eyes.

"Troy, you're only sorry about hurting someone if it damages your chances of scoring with them. I'm not falling for it." She tried again to move around him, but he held her in place. "Let me go!"

He was didn't look at her for a few minutes, instead choosing to gaze straight past her left shoulder. His expression was blank and his eyes were clouded and, for a moment, Gabriella was entirely taken in by his visage. It was so sad. He looked so confused... serious... hurt. Then suddenly he turned back towards her.

"I truly am sorry. Please, I don't want anything from you that you don't want to give. I just want to be your friend. Can we do that?"

She studied his face for a long time, trying to tell if he was lying. His eyes were impossible to read, but she could read the rest of his face. He did look apologetic and the small smile which pulled on his mouth for once didn't look like he mentally undressing her as he spoke.

"Sure..." she said, looking down at her black ballet flats. What was wrong with her? Why could she feel her cheeks heat up as he gazed down at her? Why did she want him to place his hand under her chin and raise her head, run his fingers through her and smile at her the way he was now forever?

He, of course, didn't do any of these things, but instead led her over to one of the little cement benches and sat down beside her, still gripping one of her hands. He then reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a red and green apple and held it towards her.

"You want some nourishment?" he asked, a joking grin on his face. She gave him a small smile, feeling suddenly shy and extremely confused, and took the offered fruit.

"Thanks, but you know, we could go back down to the cafeteria," she said, teasing him. "That's the usual place to eat lunch at school."

He laughed, pulling another apple out of pocket, this one a bright green Granny Smith. "Yeah, but that's for the conformists at this school. I'll eat my lunch where ever I want!"

"Oh, the most popular guy in school is a rebel," she joked. "Why do I find that hard to believe?"

"Maybe because it's not true?"

She laughed, shaking her head, and bit into the apple. He watched her silently, a smile still on his lips. She noticed and turned towards him.

"Okay, you're seriously creeping me out. Stop staring at me!"

"What? You don't like my Edward Cullen impersonation?" he laughed.

"Umm... I might if I read those books?"

"No way! You have to be the only girl in the school who hasn't read that whole series twice!"

"Have you read them?"

"Maybe..."

"Why? Did one of your numerous former girlfriends tell you to?"

He chuckled, tossing his head to move his hair from his forehead. "No, actually... I read them when I had to stay with my aunt Judith and her daughter Alice one summer. I was so bored that one day Alice just threw one of the books at me and said 'just do something mildly useful!'"

"So you read _Twilight_?"

"Well, she _did_ throw it at me..."

Gabriella laughed. She couldn't believe she was doing this. She couldn't figure why she was laughing, hanging out with the boy who two days ago she had professed to hating. She looked at the sweet apple in her hands, unsure of what to say.

Troy took a big bite of his Granny Smith and then clapped his hands together.

"Okay! Let's continue our game!"

She looked suddenly worried. "Troy, no..."

"No, look, you don't have to tell me why you moved here. Just um... what's your favorite sport?"

She smiled. "I don't do any sports. I don't watch any either."

"Aw... I was hoping you'd say basketball." He winked, she was confused.

"Why?"

He looked mildly concerned. "Because I'm the captain of the basketball team...?" He was still beaming, laughing a little at her cluelessness.

"Oh, yeah," she said, remembering what Martha had said and giving her head a slight shake. "Sorry, um.... what's your favorite film?"

He smiled and she could've sworn the garden became a bit sunnier. "_Zoolander_," he answered, laughing as he answered.

"Why are you laughing?" she asked as he collapsed into what could only be called giggles.

"I can't even say the name of the movie!" he answered through his laughter. She chuckled before admitting to him that she had never seen it before. "Well we'll have to watch it together then." He grinned. "Anyway, um... what do you want to do for... like... a career?"

"I don't know... my mom is thinking lawyer, but I kind of what to become a teacher." She shrugged. "We'll see. How about you?"

He jumped up, apple still in his hand. "NBA All-Star!" he answered, striking a heroic pose. She laughed. He couldn't figure out why he was trying so hard to make her laughing. She had such a cute smile, but that shouldn't have been enough. He was being entirely immature and he had no idea why. He found himself blushing as she laughed, something he hadn't done in years—while anyone was watching anyway—and unfortunately for him, while Gabriella's skin was dark enough to cover a blush, his cheeks flushed pink as he sat back down beside her. And when she looked back at him, she noticed instantly.

"Oh my God! You're blushing!" she teased. His cheeks darkened to a shade of scarlet. He felt like he was standing in the middle of the gymnasium, in front of the whole school, in his jockstrap. She laughed even harder.

"Okay, we've laughed at me enough—" Gabriella cut him off.

"Are you kidding? We haven't even scratched the surface, considering the amount of times you've made fun of my clothes and attitude."

"I still find your wardrobe hilarious," he admitted with a shrug. He could still feel his cheeks burning as she watched him.

"Well then, I get to laugh at you even longer!"

"Uh, okay..." He felt flustered, which was a foreign feeling for him. A little flame of anger, or indignation lit in him. "Okay!" he half-shouted and Gabriella looked back him, no longer laughing but appearing extremely shocked by his harsh tone. His cheeks turned even darker and his eyes were wide and a little deranged looking. She looked back at him, silently daring him to continue shouting. He blinked, as though waking up from a deep sleep, and seemed to come back into himself.

"Sorry..." he said, trying not to look at her.

His hair hung down over his face so Gabriella couldn't read him and she didn't know what to say about what he'd just done, so she said the first thing that came into her mind.

"It's your turn," she said. He brought his head back up, his cheeks still a little pink.

"Right," he said, taking a deep breath and biting into his apple. "Which would you rather have for lunch—a salad or or a hamburger?"

"I don't really care... either one, I guess," she said, biting her lip and looking at her apple again. "What do your parents do? Job-wise, I mean."

"My dad is the coach of the basketball team and shares the general PE class with a few other coaches. My mom works for the government." He saw Gabriella's expression as he told her this and grinned sheepishly. "I can't actually tell you what she does. I'm not really sure..."

Gabriella raised her eyebrows, surprised. "Wow... My mom is a nuclear technician and I thought that was pretty exciting." He chuckled and smiled at her.

"I'm sorry again," he said. "I don't know why I acted that way... I just... I don't like being laughed at."

The bell rang. Gabriella stood up and took another bite out of her apple.

"Well, you'd better get used to it," she said, feeling her lips stretch into a mischievous grin. "You're one of my friends now."

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Taylor was there to greet Gabriella by her locker when the brunette ran past the other students, a few of whom began whispering when they saw her. The other girl leaned against the neighboring locker and as Gabriella approached she said in a harsh tone;

"So, Gabriella, how was _Troy Bolton_?"

Gabriella sighed and moved to enter the combination into her padlock, but Taylor moved in front of her.

"Did you listen to anything I told you about him!" she hissed, grabbing Gabriella by the shoulders and giving her a little shake.

"Taylor, we're going to be late for class. Let me open my locker."

"Screw class!" said Taylor and Gabriella raised her eyebrows. "Okay fine, I don't mean that, but come _on_, Gabriella! What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I want to open my locker." Taylor rolled her eyes and stepped aside so Gabriella could reach her books.

"What is wrong with you?!" Taylor demanded as Gabriella pulled out some of her textbooks and slammed shut the door, setting off quickly down the hall. "Gabriella!" Taylor ran after her.

"I don't know how to explain it!" Gabriella protested as Taylor caught up with her. "We just started talking the other day after the scholastic decathlon meet and we kept arguing and I told him I hated him and then the next day we started talking again and I got really upset and left and today he wanted to talk to me and he apologized and I forgave him and we started talking again and he started blushing and I was laughing at him and we've decided to become friends and stuff and I didn't want to tell you because I just _knew_ that you'd—"

"You've decided to become _friends_ with _Troy Bolton_? Are you crack or something, girl? The boy is a womanizing bastard!"

"Just shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Gabriella shouted as she strode at top speed to class. Her head felt hot and foggy. She took a deep breath to try and calm herself. "Look, we'll talk about it after school okay! I swear, we can stay behind after the scholastic decathlon meet and I'll explain _everything_." And with that, she entered the classroom.

"You'd better," Taylor said under breath and followed the petite girl in.

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**Oh! Conflict between other characters! Isn't it exciting? XD**

**The threat is on-going. You all (or at least five of you) have to review or no updates. :( **

**Anyway... I hope you enjoyed this. I had fun and difficulty writing it. And by the way Ryan and Sharpay fans, they'll be back soon. It's... Friday now in the story (I keep track!) and so they'll return to the story on... whenever Monday comes up soon. Also Chad will be coming back soon. I don't know why he's dropped out of the story so much, since I actually need his character. :D**

**Please review!**

**-OFsI**


	7. Breathe

**Amazing Grace**

Old Fiat

Here's the new chapter everyone. I hope you enjoy it. :D

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**Chapter 7: Breathe**

Gabriella only saw Troy in passing in the hallways and one class until that evening, but every time he caught sight of her, he managed to catch her eye and shoot her a large, slightly naughty-but-friendly-looking grin before turning away again. Whenever he did this she found herself smiling back, like she had been trained to respond to that smile. She quickly put herself in her place, though, attempting to place Troy at the very back of her mind and concentrate instead on what she was going to say to Taylor after the decathlon meet.

However, even though she'd been considering it all that day, Gabriella still had no idea how to explain everything. As Martha bade Gabriella and Taylor a cheerful farewell and left, the coffee-skinned girl practically leaped on the other.

"So, what's your big explanation?" she asked, sitting down beside the petite brunette. "Why did you agree to become friends with _Troy Bolton_?"

"I don't have an explanation," Gabriella admitted truthfully with a small sigh. "I really don't know why I agreed to it, but... even though he's really conceited and egotistical and stuff, he can be really funny too. I actually had a good time talking to him. I mean, I know that we'll always be getting into tiffs and stuff, but... he's fun." She shrugged, watching Taylor nervously.

Taylor stayed silent for a long time, struggling to find the right words for what she wanted to say. "Gabriella..." she finally said and Gabriella groaned. She had known Taylor long enough to know what that tone of voice meant. It was the same tone she used with the students she tutored—calm, slow and slightly pitying.

"Listen to me!" she insisted and Gabriella turned to her again, annoyed. "I understand that Troy can seem very sweet and very charming, but you have to hear something about him."

Gabriella rolled her eyes, but Taylor continued.

"Okay, so last year, Troy asked Sharpay to go out with him to the movies and she said yes. This was before I totally loathed him, so I helped her and hung out while she got ready or whatever and I was actually really happy for her because Sharpay had liked him for a while and I'd heard rumors before, but I just thought, 'they're just rumors, they don't really mean anything.' Anyway, when Troy was driving her back from the theater, he pulled off the road and he... he tried to have sex with her. When she refused and _finally_ managed to get him off of her, she ended up having to walk home and the Evans live pretty far outside of town. It was awful. He had just asked her out to try and score. So just consider it Gabriella, do you think Troy may have asked you to become his friend just so he could get you into that kind of position?"

Gabriella sat silent, staring out the window that was almost directly behind Taylor. Her expression was impassive, but there was a certain determination in the way she held her jaw and Taylor only noticed then, through the gap created by the two unbuttoned buttons on her shirt, a network of faint scars criss-crossing over the right side of her collarbone. Gabriella brought her gaze back to Taylor's face and spoke, seriously, reluctantly.

"I'll consider it," she said, giving her friend a small smile. Taylor's look was no longer pitying. It was confused, wondering what she didn't know about the girl before her. "Is that okay? I just... I'll make sure I don't get in that 'position', alright? Don't worry."

Taylor sighed. "If I were you, I'd do a lot more than 'consider'."

"Taylor," Gabriella said, calmly and thoughtfully. "I'll make my own decisions. I want to... make an educated judgment on Troy. You have your set of evidence and I'll gather my own. I respect your opinion, but I have my own thoughts, okay?"

"But the risk of gathering evidence is putting yourself into a compromising situation with the biggest player in East High history!" Taylor insisted and Gabriella ran her fingers through her hair in frustration.

"Taylor." Gabriella's voice was firm, her eyes hard. "I want to figure this out for myself. I think..." She paused, knowing how Taylor would react to her next statement. "I think there might be more to him than meets the eye."

"Oh no... Oh—oh no!" Taylor shook her head in disbelief. "Don't fool yourself into thinking that there's anything behind that cruel, misogynistic shell because it's empty! It's not like an oyster where if you open it you might a pearl. This is like cracking open a already shed cicada shell. You won't find anything inside! It's empty. It's opaque. Then it breaks apart in your hands and you're left alone. That's what'll happen if you get mixed up with—"

Her voice higher and louder, growing more and more frantic, and as she spoke, the door to the room swung open and Troy came in, pulling the janitor's cart with him. Gabriella saw him and mentally hit herself. She had forgotten about seeing Troy after the decathlon meet when she agreed to speak to Taylor. She saw his face grow cold as Taylor finished her speech and felt a sudden pang of guilt for the way her friend was talking about him.

"Troy," she choked out, cutting off Taylor's long lecture.

Taylor turned quickly to see where Gabriella was looking and shock penetrated her expression briefly as she saw the varsity basketball star. She brought her face quickly back under control, however, and spoke to Troy in a harsh, uncaring tone.

"Bolton, what are you doing here?"

He lifted a broom from the cart, expression still icy. "Cleaning."

"Well, can you please wait? Gabriella and I are speaking about something private."

"This is the last room I have to clean and you appear to be speaking about me so I think I can contribute to the conversation."

"No!" Taylor said quickly. "No, you can't. Come on Gabriella, let's go over to my house and do our homework." She grabbed Gabriella by the wrist and started to pull the petite brunette out of the classroom before she could react.

Troy let them go, giving Gabriella a small smile that was almost a silent laugh as she was led from the room, too confused of what to do to protest.

"See you, Gabriella."

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Gabriella tried not to be too angry with Taylor, but it was rather difficult. She knew that the girl was trying to look out for her new friend's best interests and hadn't meant... well, she kind of _had_ meant to spoil Gabriella's last chance to speak to Troy again before the following Monday, when she would have Sharpay and Ryan on her back about this as well.

Gabriella only spent about thirty minutes at Taylor's house, but found herself unable to concentrate and, since she felt too embarrassed about what Taylor had said about Troy to try and return to the school building to see if he was still there, she walked home alone, clearing her jumbled mind and calm her thoughts. She wondered if it would ever feel like it was really fall in Albuquerque. It didn't so far. It still looked, felt and even smelled like summer. She wished that she could feel the crisp breeze that one felt when fall arrived in Pennsylvania. She missed the way the trees changed color and the sticky humidity that lasted throughout the summer and finally cleared in the autumn and winter months, only to return again in late spring. That was the problem with New Mexico, it was too dry. Most of the plants that grew had a spiky, desert quality to them that she didn't like. She wondered if it would snow once winter rolled around, but knew it was quite unlikely.

When she reached her home, she let herself in, went up to her room and flopped on her bed, confused and tired.

She knew that she should heed Taylor's advice and not speak to Troy, to avoid contact with him at all costs, but she couldn't bring herself to actually do it. The expression on his face the other day on the roof top had practically broken her heart. It was so sad and so lost looking that she couldn't believe that he was as one-dimensional as he first appeared. It was impossible for him to be like that since she knew that people have layers of their personality and some are more dominant than others.

He appeared to be extremely interested in her, which bothered her a little because, while some boys may have hollered at her from time to time, none had ever shown a real keen fascination before. He had such piercing blue eyes, so impossible to turn away from and impossible to forget, that she found it often difficult to speak to him, but she would overcome it because she had to find out more about him. She didn't know why but she had to.

She had no idea if she would be able to talk to him this weekend. It felt strange to call when they had only just become "friends" and even if she had his email, which she didn't, she wouldn't be able to email him because her computer wasn't hooked up to the Internet yet and disliked logging in on library desk tops. She didn't know if she should visit him because that also felt presumptuous.

But, she also didn't know why she should care about seeming too forward because they friendship was similar to that of Taylor and Sharpay's—friends and sparring partners. In fact, they weren't even friends yet really just sort of... acquaintances, but she didn't know why she had agreed to his offer of friendship. She just... She was curious. She liked Taylor and she thought Sharpay was fun to talk to sometimes and she just _knew_ that she and Ryan would eventually be extremely close friends, but she had been friends with people like them before. She had been in several different clubs with people like Taylor, had been semi-friends with people like Sharpay and... well, she had never really be _friends_ with people like Ryan, but she had known guys like him.

However, Troy wasn't really like anyone she'd been friends with before. She had known one or two guys like him, but she always did her best to avoid them. They were too much like her father. Actually, _Troy_ was too much like her father, but, while one part of her wanted to kick him in the groin whenever she saw him, another part just wanted to spend all day enjoying his personal brand of dry, sarcastic, completely random humor. He was dangerous and sometimes, when she could feel his fingers squeezing her flesh and see the anger flashing in his eyes, he could make her heart pump faster and cause a cold dribble of fear to race down her spine. She hated feeling afraid. She hated feeling vulnerable, but she had always been able to swallow panic and keep a level, albeit slightly overly defense and angry, head and she would use that ability to her greatest advantage when dealing with Troy. If he really was as much of a jerk as her first impression said, then she would have at least given him a chance.

And eventually, she fell asleep, still dressed, at five thirty in the evening, thinking about Troy Bolton.

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**Well that was an extremely... filler-like chapter. Sorry about that. I hope you all enjoyed it. And I'd like to thank you all for your kindness in reaction to my author's note. You were all very sweet.**

**So... uh... Please, please, **_**please**_** review and tell me what you think. I can't read your minds so I don't really know what things I should improve on and what things are really good. Thanks again. :)**

**-OFsI**


	8. Just a Dream

**Amazing Grace**

Old Fiat

I hope you guys like this chapter! I'm sorry it took a while. I don't own Relient K, just in case you didn't know. Lol.

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**Chapter 8: Just a Dream**

_A warm hand rested on his back, rubbing the muscles of his upper back and a smooth, calm voice whispered into his ear, tickling the left side of his face._

_"...you know, Troy, you're a real talent..."_

_A recently broken voice cracked slightly. "...I don't think—" _

_A scream. A sudden flash of heat and pain._

_"Stop! Stop!"_

Troy sat up in bed, chest heaving. Cold sweat soaked through the muscle-tee covering his torso and dripped down his forehead. Half of the duvet rested on the floor while the other half was wrapped around his right leg. His sheets had been partially wrenched from his mattress and only one of the five pillows still sat on the bed, the others having found other homes around his room while he slept. He gasped for breath and, after quickly wiping his face on the slightly damp covers, he swung himself out of bed and turned on his bedside lamp, filling the room with a slightly orange light.

Running his hands through his semi-wet hair, he stood up and went into thee bathroom, pressing his head against the cool tiles the moment he entered. For a moment his head burned, then the chill passed through his body, making him shiver. He pulled away from the away, leaned on the broad counter and turned on the cold water. As water gushed from the faucet, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. His face was red and, though his eyes were clear and white, still held wide with fright. He gripped the creamy marble surface with sweaty hands as he felt his stomach lurch.

He sank to the floor, trying not to shut his eyes as a reaction to the nauseous feeling growing in him. He never shut his eyes. He would lie in bed, eyes wide open, until he fell asleep. If he kept his eyes open, he would see only reality. He wouldn't have to focus inward. He wouldn't have to remember.

Pulling himself up with the aid of the counter, Troy stood and immediately stuck his head under the tap, allowing the icy liquid to shock his system and wake him up. He opened his mouth, drinking some of water as it flowed down. Once he had soaked his entire head and most of his shoulders, he turned off the water and took his towel from the rack on the back of the door. He dried off as he returned to his room and pulled off his pajamas and tugged on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of baggy gym shorts.

After glancing at the glowing electric alarm clock on his bedside table, he jogged down the stairs and went out the back door to the miniature basketball court that took up a lot of the backyard. He had to make up for all the practices he had missed that week and as he entered the court, he picked up the basketball which sat beside the hoop.

He wasn't going to allow himself to consider the dream he had had. He had had it millions of times before and he knew that he would continue to have it the rest of his life. Bright lights, then darkness. Softly whispered words and shouted protests. Fear. Pain. Heat.

He threw the ball towards the basket, and it went through, not even touching the net.

He wasn't going to let himself think.

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Gabriella woke at exactly nine thirty that morning, sitting up and yawning. She stretched and sat for a few moments in her tangle of covers, thinking. She had no plans for that day, having gone to the library the previous evening and finishing all her left-over homework assignments in one day, and stared around her room, wondering what she could do that day.

She quite liked her room. Her old room had been very small and almost empty except for a dresser, containing her clothes, a small, tightly packed bookshelf, a desk and a bed made of two mattresses stacked one on top of the other. She had had a few photographs of her and her friends and some hair and make up things strewn over the dresser and her alarm clock had sat on the desk. The white walls were stained with smoke from a fire that had gone through the building a few years before her parents had moved in and they had never bothered to repaint.

Her new room, however, was a large, airy sort of space, with very pale, almost white, periwinkle walls, cream-colored carpeting and white trim. She had a new desk, bed—a somewhat four-poster creation—and bedside table; all painted white; and a built-in closet which sat beside a set of dresser drawers on the opposite wall from the bed. A bookshelf ran from floor to ceiling along a wall and sat to the left side of a set of sliding doors, which led onto a small balcony. A large oak tree stood, sturdy, right beside the sliding doors, its leaves—of which almost all were still mostly green—rustling in the breeze. It was peaceful, though she still hadn't got around to unpacking most of her things yet.

She slid out of bed and went over to her dresser, pulling out a pair of old, too-big jeans which she hadn't worn in a long time and a pale green and white striped skinny-tee. After quickly changing and going to the bathroom to brush her teeth, she pulled her hair up in a messy bun and went downstairs to the kitchen.

The kitchen was similar to her room and the rest of the house—light and airy, very unlike her old home which had seemed slightly dark and cramped, though that may have been her imagination. She prepared herself some cereal before returning to her room, stepping as lightly as she could to avoid waking her mother, who always slept late on weekends.

Placing the bowl of Cheerios beside her on the floor, Gabriella tore off the tape which covered the backpack sitting in front of her. None of her things had been packed in boxes since there hadn't been anytime to get any. She could remember her mother bursting into her room, tossing a roll of packing tape at her and telling her to pack all her things as quickly as possible in any bags she had.

She gave her head a little shake and stared out the glass doors at the huge oak. She hated remembering her old life. She hated dreaming of her father every night, frightening nightmares composed of nothing but memories—sounds, flashes of images, harsh feelings of pain, hatred and panic which always made her wake up terrified with her heart pounding against her ribcage. However, Gabriella knew that she would always remember it. She knew that she could not escape those memories no matter where she went or how hard she tried to squash them in the back of her mind.

But she also knew that she couldn't speak to anyone about these memories. Her mother had been just as damaged as her and had barely managed to hang on long enough to drive with her daughter as far away from Philadelphia as she could. She knew that the tiniest mention of anything that had happened would send her mother over the edge.

The backpack had once been her school bag, but the zipper had broken and, thus, had had to be quickly taped up to stop all the things inside from falling out. Gabriella gripped the bottom and dumped the contents on the ground. Inside were a bright blue t-shirt with black pin-stripes, several cheap, paperback books, a few CDs, a few birthday cards from her grandmother, a pair of orange and white flip-flops and an over-sized, dark green and yellow GAP hoodie. She opened some of the smaller pockets and pulled out two pairs of underwear and a few hair clips.

Tossing the clothes into her laundry basket which sat in between the dresser and the closet door, she got up and placed one of the CDs in the boom box which sat on top of the dresser, preparing to spend the rest of the day at home, sorting through the clumsily packed bags.

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Chad came over to Troy's house at eleven that morning, as he did almost every weekend that Troy didn't come over to his home. When he went out to backyard, he just knew the Troy had been out throwing baskets all morning. Sweat was shining across his friend's forehead and his legs shook slightly as he dribbled the ball further from the net, avoiding imaginary guards and defense players. There were bags under his eyes, as though he had hardly slept at all, and Chad watched as he stumbled slightly after throwing the ball. It bounced off the hoop and slid neatly through the net. Troy grabbed it again and continued, oblivious to Chad's presence.

"Hey hoops!" he called and Troy spun around, his hair whipping his cheekbones as he turned. He grinned at Chad, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Hey Chad," he said, approaching the other boy. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," Chad shrugged, hands in his pockets. "You look like you could use a break."

"I could use a shower," laughed Troy and pushed back some of the strands of sweaty hair that stuck to his face. There was something distant about his laugh, as though he was trapped in some other world. But then again, Chad couldn't totally remember the last time his laugh had sounded real.

"Yeah..." he joked, his mouth splitting into a large smile. "You really could use one of those too." Troy chuckled and looked past Chad. "Why isn't your dad playing with you?"

"Ah... He had to work on taxes or... something... I don't know..." He laughed again. "He was out here for a little while. You want to play?"

"Nah," said Chad, with a little shake of his head. He wasn't sure how to talk or hang out with Troy any more. They used to be best friends. They had met in preschool and had practically spent their entire childhoods together. They were brothers.

Or, that is, they _had been_. Chad didn't entirely understand what had happened. They had somehow just grown apart once they started high school. Troy had changed. He had been popular in middle school, but not incredibly so. By the end of freshman year, however, Troy had already collected some sort of fame as the basketball junior varsity star—a title he actually deserved—and by the end of October the next year, he was the most popular boy in the school and appeared to have lost all morals he may have possessed before. Chad knew that he himself was not a perfect person, but Troy had simply taken an incredible turn for something that went beyond the worse. He'd become someone else.

Chad and Troy drove back to his house to watch a movie on the large flat-screen. On their arrival, Troy flopped onto the beige leather armchair and Chad seated himself out over the sofa, grabbing the remote from the coffee table as he moved across the room, marveling at how Troy could still act so at home at Chad's house when Chad felt so damned awkward at Troy's. He turned on the television and flicked aimlessly through the channels, waiting for Troy to speak.

Even though Chad had not considered Troy his true best friend for quite some time, he still knew exactly how to read him. Troy had been speaking a lot and laughing a little too easily. He wasn't being as sarcastic as he was normally, but was trying desperately to be. In all honesty, Chad had no idea what any of these things meant, but Troy had been acting this way on-and-off for a while and Chad knew what would happen from this point. Troy wouldn't be able to keep up a silence, even if it was comfortable. He wouldn't be able to take _not_ doing something for more than a few seconds. Troy was devoted to basketball. It was something that he just just understood purely by instinct and Chad was sure that Troy had a career ahead of him as an NBA all-star. But Chad knew that Troy would never practice for so long—and according to his chattering during the car ride, he had been shooting hoops since four forty-five that morning—without whatever his problem was acting up.

And Chad was going to try his best to use his ability to predict what his friend would do next to his advantage. He needed to talk to Troy. He needed to know what had been going on for the past two years, but he knew he couldn't ask. Because he knew that Troy would only tell him if Troy himself brought it up. So all Chad could do was hope that Troy would explain to him what had happened. He would wait. He could wait. He still cared for Troy, even if he wasn't really his friend anymore.

Unfortunately, though, when Troy spoke, it had nothing to do with what Chad actually wanted to hear about.

"Hey Chad, didn't you say your mom introduced to that new girl, Gabriella Montez, after church last week?"

"Yeah, my mom sold Ms. Montez their new house. Why?" Chad felt more than a twinge of annoyance. He knew what was going on. Troy had scoped out the newest student at East High to be his new squeeze and he was going to try and dig up information about her from Chad. Chad didn't care. He was sick of this. If Troy wasn't going to talk to him about whatever was bothering him, then Chad wanted him out of the house. Simple as that.

"Have you got her address?"

"It's probably in my mom's address book." Chad gestured vaguely at the side table next to the television where his mother's notepad, cellphone and address book sat beside the house phone. Troy rose from the armchair and moved over to it.

Chad watched him from behind, the friend that he no longer knew. Troy was hardly human to him anymore. He had become like a stranger. He was so different. He used to tell Chad everything, but now he was always the last to know, the last to be trusted _because_ he knew everything about Troy. He should've known better than to think Troy might tell him what was up.

But even though part of Chad knew Troy would never tell him what had happened, would never tell him why he acted the way he did—even though he should've officially dropped Troy as a friend a long time ago, he would always still hold on to the hope that one day, Troy would trust him again.

And as soon as Troy found the address of the girl who would soon be his newest play toy, he left to walk home, leaving Chad in the boring, beige living room—alone, as usual.

=-----=-----=

Gabriella sighed and leaned back against the side of the bed. She had gone through half of her possessions, bringing her up to a grand total of three bags sorted. She had been doing this for almost four hours, but she was constantly distracted, if not by her mother—who had kept popping in every few seconds to ask her how she was doing, if she wanted to go out anywhere with her friends or whether or not Gabriella minded her going out to visit Mrs. Teresa Danforth, her new friend in Albuquerque—then by her own things which she pulled out the bags. She found herself rereading the entirety of her old diary, flipping slowly through her old yearbooks and looking at the liner notes of every CD she found.

She would have to do several loads of laundry once she was done, given the amount of dirty clothes she had hurriedly packed when she left Pennsylvania. Looking around the room, she realized that she had hardly put away anything, so, pushing herself off the floor and taking a moment to bring back her shoulders in an attempt to make her back crack, she began to gather all her books in her arms. She bopped her head in time with the music blaring from her somewhat ancient boom box as she slotted the volumes into the bookshelf. She had found the CD while digging though the items in her old duffel bag half an hour ago and sang along now at the top of her voice.

"_And now I'm sunny with a high of seventy-five since you took my heavy heart and made it light_..." She went on working and once she had shelved the books, she picked up her CD cases which were strewn over the the carpet and placed them in the rack her mother had purchased for her. After she had cleared her floor, she sat down again and dumped out another bag, continuing to sing along with the music as she worked.

"_He's the guy that you should feel sorry for he had the world but he though that he wanted_..." Her voice trailed off as she glanced outside, shocked.

She sat there for what felt like an eternity, just gazing through the thick panes of glass that separated her from the outdoors. Stupefied—unable to do anything except stare in astonishment.

Because on her balcony, just outside the sliding doors, stood Troy Bolton.

He grinned at her stunned expression and tapped on the glass, asking to be let in, but she was still to astonished to do anything but gaze into his bright blue eyes. He knocked again before turning the handle and entering on his own. She just watched him, unsure of whether to shout in protest or to demand why he was there.

"Oh!" he joked with a smirk as he looked her up and down. She didn't like the look of that smirk. It was like he mentally undressing her again. "I see the politician/business executive has put on regular teenager clothes!"

Gabriella looked down at herself. "Yeah well... uh..." she stammered. "Shut up."

"Smooth," Troy teased.

"Please go away," said Gabriella, feeling that familiar swell of annoyance in her chest. "I don't want you in my room. My mom isn't here and I still don't entirely trust you."

"I swear I won't try anything," he promised as he sat down on her bed. She looked at him suspiciously. His button-up, short-sleeved shirt matched his eyes perfectly, which were accented by his shiny just-washed hair. He removed his white and black sneakers and brought his feet and old gym socks up onto her white duvet. "Why would I?"

"Taylor told me what you tried with Sharpay a year ago," said Gabriella, jumping to her feet so quickly that once she was standing it took her a moment to remember how she got in that position.

"Mm-hmm?" Troy raised one eyebrow, his gaze steady.

"And I don't like that you did that to her!" stated Gabriella, trying to stay ten feet from the boy. She thought for a moment that she heard something downstairs. Was her mother home already? She was going to be in a lot of trouble if she was. "It was unfair. Why are you always trying to have sex with girls? Isn't it enough just to go out and have fun with someone?"

"Why did you promise to be my friend and continue to distrust me?"

"Answer my question first," Gabriella insisted, matching his intense gaze with her own.

"I don't know. 'Cause I like girls?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "So you sleep around because you're heterosexual? That's not a good enough answer."

"Maybe I don't want to give the answer right now," he said, smirk still firmly in place, but his voice was icy. "Maybe I will eventually, but not today. Now are you going to answer my question?"

She nodded, but stayed silent for a few moments before responding, allowing the pop-punk music to fill the pause. Leaning back against the dresser, she spoke, gazing down at her feet instead of at Troy.

"I'm sure that part of you is a fun, nice guy, but I think that you can also be really a nasty, proud, misogynistic and over-all unsavory person." She turned her face toward him again. "Is that a good enough answer?"

The smirk was gone, but his expression was not one of anger. He looked like he was considering her carefully, calmly mulling over what she had said. He gave a small, almost sweet smile and nodded.

"Yeah, that's a good answer."

There was a tense silence for a couple of seconds as they both struggled to find something to say. Troy was the one to finally break the silence.

He slid off her bed and began to dig through the things she had dumped out of the bag right before he entered. Grinning once more, he picked up a CD and held it up for her to see.

"The _Dreamgirls_ movie soundtrack?" he questioned. "You really like your Beyonce don't you?"

"She has a great voice," Gabriella stated, dropping to her knees by the assorted items.

Troy chuckled at her as he placed the album on the floor beside him. "You can be really overly defensive, you know that?"

"And you can be a total jerk," said Gabriella, mimicking his tone perfectly and beginning to put aside the butterfly clips and hair-ties which had been placed at the bottom of the bag.

He laughed and and picked up an over-size t-shirt which sat in front of him. He unfolded it, hoping there would be a logo on the front which he could tease her about, but his smile quickly fell as he looked at the article of clothing in his hands.

The entire top-right of the shirt, starting at the ripped up collar and ending halfway down the body, was covered with dried-up blood.

=-----=-----=

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**Gasp! What does this mean? Well, that will be revealed... later. Ha ha. I hope you guys enjoyed this... 3716 word chapter! O.O Wow. That's quite long, but it did take a while so I guess it evens out.**

**Please, please, **_**please**_** review!**

**-OFsI**


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